


Bookshop

by lettalady



Series: Blips and Blurbs [35]
Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettalady/pseuds/lettalady
Summary: Prompt fulfillment:You're in a book shop. The book you want is on the most impractically high, towering shelf that you’re sure could crush you. On tip toes, dangerously wobbling in your high heels, you reach with all your might to get the book when you hear a sheepish cough behind you. You glance back with wide eyed confusion to see a tall and handsome man offer you assistance. You shyly smile as he gracefully plants the book in your hands. “Hello,” he says gently. “I’m Tom."
Series: Blips and Blurbs [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925065
Kudos: 5





	Bookshop

**F** rankly, the reason you went was to see him. Ok – yes, a few good movies too, but mostly just to try to catch a glimpse… maybe even snag an autograph. You ended up attending a Q & A session and were thusly able to bask in his glow from afar, but never did manage to be in the right place at the right time to net an autograph or interaction. He was constantly moving on all too quickly and well, you had movies to watch.

Throughout the brief trip the quote has rattled around in your head – an admittance that in previous visits to the city he’d sourced out wonderful little bookstores… So when you find yourself with downtime, no tickets to attend any screenings until the following day, you choose to discover a few of the stores yourself. Call it a desire to cleanse your palette before resuming the cine-fest tomorrow.

Hunting for anything in particular? A _no, not really_ from you fulfilled the interaction the clerk desired, allowing him to attend to other patrons who had something specific they were searching for. The benefit there went both ways – he could focus on guests who were there with the intention of buying things, and you could peruse the shelves without feeling the pressure to take something to the registers.

After wandering slowly and letting the titles on the spines filter past your eyes for a few minutes, inspiration struck. A gift you could carry home with you – if you can find it…

You move through the shelves with purpose now. It’s not in fiction, as you first assumed it might be. Not in mystery either. Your last chance before venturing on empty handed is classics. Eureka. There you spy a worn copy, perfect for your needs… but perched high up on a shelf, almost as though hidden. You doubt your chances of reaching it on your own and for the life of you can’t remember seeing a stepstool to use in your quest.

Hiking a foot up and attempting to retrieve the book by standing on the ledge of the lowest shelf is only a momentary thought. No – you’re not dressed for such shenanigans, nor do you want to be _that_ customer. Plus the shelf is filled with books and doesn’t appear to be anchored, at least it isn’t by any visible means. It could probably crush you if it tipped.

Maybe, just maybe you can stretch every inch of your diminutive form and eek the book off the shelf. Utilizing the added height bonus given you from the heel that you’d elected to wear this morning and you just might have a shot at succeeding.

With a determined nod you step up onto your tiptoes and reach, stretching up with one arm and holding yourself in place with the other. Your fingertips just barely graze the desired level of the shelving unit. Can one will oneself to grow the few necessary inches, even if just for a moment?

Then comes a light, sheepish cough from behind you.

The clerk with a step ladder and amused grin, enjoying the scene he sees before him? Well, you’re not one to say no to assistance when it is offered. Maybe you can banter a bit, laughingly admit that you’d thought of a specific title after all.

You glance over your shoulder, settling down onto your heels again when faced with the very tall, handsome man you’d traveled all this way to see. Shock and confusion flutter over your face. What he’s doing in this little shop when he should be attending a press conference or party or something is absolutely….

All thinking stops when he nods at the shelf behind you moments before leaning, easily plucking the book from the shelf. He examines the title, nodding approvingly as he offers the book to you. When he smiles of course you offer up a shy smile in return.

“Hello,” he says gently, “I’m Tom.”


End file.
